Champagne
by Axilliflorum
Summary: Hermione worships champagne. Why? My first fanfic. One shot. Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, sadly. JK Rowling's.


**Champagne**

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A/N: Hi this is my first time writing a fic. Hope that I will have constructive reviews and please comment on any errors in vocabulary or sentence structure or grammar. Sorry if the plot is clichéd because it just popped into my mind. What do you call it again? A plot bunny? Oh well. Anyways I used a random word generator and it gave me three words: champagne, ball and unsatisfied. I'll try my best to include these words. Enjoy :)

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Champagne [ʃæmˈpeɪn]

_noun_

A sparkling white wine made from a blend of grapes, especially Chardonnay and pinot, produced in Champagne

* * *

Another ball. Seriously? Couldn't the Ministry get their head out from their arses? It was already _four_ years after the war. Yet they were still celebrating how _they_ defeated Voldemort. Not how Harry killed him. It was all about the Ministry. The officials were big headed pigs who refused to admit that Harry Potter was the one who brought Voldemort to his death. She would give anything to skip going to the ball. However, as a Ministry worker, she was obliged to go. _Urgh_!

Her life was a terrible mess. Ron had just dumped her for the bint Lavender Brown. Even though she wasn't madly in love with him, the breakup still stung.

It proved that she just wasn't beautiful enough, funny enough, good enough. Not enough to keep even her boyfriend of _three_ years by her side. She was definitely smart. The brightest witch of her age. But being smart wasn't the only quality guys looked for. She knew that. She just couldn't change.

It didn't help that she was unwilling to take time off her job. It didn't help that she was waiting for the right person to have first time sex. That was why Ron left. Because she was a busy woman who had no time for sex. No time to please him.

At 22 (going on to 23), she was a virgin workaholic. And she was sure that she would die a virgin workaholic, since she apparently wasn't good enough for anyone.

That was why her life was a big terrible mess.

Snapping out from her wallow in self pity, she looked at the invitation and sighed.

"Dear Miss Hermione Granger, you are cordially invited to the ball in honour of celebrating the downfall of the Dark Lord brought on by the Ministry. With regards, the Minister of Magic," she read in an overly saccharine voice. At the bottom of the invitation was nonsense about what to wear, who would be saying what and other unimportant details.

Yay. All she needed was a ball to cheer her up.

**Not**.

Sighing, she stood up from her favourite swivel chair and plopped the invitation onto the table. Walking towards her wardrobe, she thought about what to wear. Her wardrobe consisted of conservative skirts, white starched button-up blouses and blazers. Other than that, there were jeans and plain tees that had a few trashy words on top.

Imagine Hermione Granger turning up at a Ministry ball wearing a shirt that wrote 'I'd Do Me' (surprise surprise!) and her ratty old jeans which had a hole near her butt. Laughing at the mental image, she rummaged through the piles of paperwork in her desk for her phone. Dialling Ginny Weasley's number, she waited for her to pick up the phone while she dressed for work.

Finally, Ginny answered the call, albeit a little disgruntled. "Hermione Jean Granger! You woke me up in the middle of my beauty sleep! This better be an emergency or I'll go over to your place to personally kill you," she grumbled. Hermione snickered. Beauty sleep? More like a round of hot shagging with The Boy Who Lived.

"Ginerva Weasley, no it's not a terrible emergency but **WAIT** and hear me out before you execute your plan for my untimely death. I trust you've gotten your invitation to the Ministry ball?" Upon hearing Ginny grunt in response, Hermione continued. "Well Ginny, you have to go dress, shoe and jewellery shopping with me this weekend, since the ball is next week." Ginny squealed in joy; it had been so long since Hermione went shopping. She couldn't wait to help the girl improve her fashion sense and hook her up with a new guy to get over her insensitive brother.

"Yessss! Hermione Granger, meet you at Leaky Cauldron at 9 o'clock sharp on Saturday! We'll probably be spending loads of time there so yeah be prepared! And don't wear the muggle jeans with the hole at your arse. It is not sexy, just sloppy."

Hermione cringed at the thought of shopping for so long, especially with Ginny, the renowned fashionista. However, she had no choice. Oh well. It was only for that one occasion. Stupid Ministry. Causing her so much trouble for a stupid ball. Instantly regretting her decision to contact her best girlfriend about her clothing crisis, she fastened the last few buttons on her crisp Oxford blouse before picking up her briefcase to go to the Ministry.

* * *

After a long week at work, it was Saturday. Basically, Doomsday for Hermione, and RRHF (rest, relax and have fun) day for Ginny.

At exactly 9 o'clock, Hermione stood at the entrance to Diagon Alley, trying to look all prim and proper in her best casual clothes (a pair of jeans which, thank goodness, had no holes in them) and a pink tee with a black heart. After a few minutes, Ginny arrived, looking gorgeous in a pale blue blouse that made her beautiful eyes stand out with a white skirt that reached mid-calf. She was very bouncy and Hermione smirked.

"Still getting off your ecstasy after shagging Harry Potter?" Ginny blushed and smacked Hermione.

"Can't blame me, Harry sure knows what he's doing," she retorted, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. Hermione made a face that said 'too much info'. She certainly did not want to hear about her best friend's and her best girlfriend's sex life.

With that, they set out in search for the perfect ensemble for Hermione (Ginny had too many dresses suitable for the occasion).

* * *

The week breezed past. Hermione would be lying if she said she wasn't excited. After all, she wanted to see the expression on Ron's face when she was done prettying up. And make him regret dumping her.

She didn't want him back. No she certainly did not. Because he just wasn't suitable for her and when they were snogging, she felt like she was kissing a brother. Basically, it felt like incest and that was partially why she didn't ball with him. It would feel like her sibling was forcing himself on her. Awkward and weird.

Hermione was in a good mood that week. She said hi and smiled at everyone, including Draco Malfoy. Yes, Draco-the-git-Malfoy. He wasn't that much of a git anymore, but still he was an arrogant prat who constantly found ways to rile Hermione up. But he never called her a Mudblood ever again. Without the influence of his father, Draco Malfoy was a nicer person. Maybe nice was a bit far, but well, he was much more tolerable. Sometimes he even made Hermione smile when they went out with their colleagues for lunch.

After the war, he became quieter and did not go around flaunting his wealth and he worked hard to earn his place, and to restore his tarnished family name. After close to four years worth of working at the Ministry in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the Malfoy family was restored to its previous glory. With Lucius Malfoy locked in Azkaban, Draco didn't need to worry about anyone destroying his reputation.

Without his condescending attitude due to his pureblood aristocracy, Hermione found him rather attractive. Attractive? Yes. But she certainly did not have a crush on him. No, of course she did not. That was utterly ridiculous. Or maybe not. But oh well. It couldn't hurt to have some eye candy. She was a single woman after all. And Draco had one hot body. He was astonishingly beautiful. An Adonis.

And after a week and a half's wait, the time for the ball had came.

* * *

Friday was the day of the ball. Everyone invited was given the day off to primp themselves up.

Hermione slept till 12, as Ginny prescribed, to get her 'beauty rest' so that she wouldn't get 'panda eyes'. Hermione scoffed at her notion, but she didn't complain. Five more hours of sleep than usual. Who would complain?

Mucking around, Hermione watched 'A Cinderella Story' and then she jogged twelve miles before Ginny came with Harry through the Floo. Ginny brought her dress and her whole make up kit which was approximately the size of a luggage. No, not exaggerating. Not at all. Harry was made to watch Wizards at Waverly Place while the girls dressed for the ball. It was ironic watching a show about how Muggles portrayed wizards.

Half an hour before the ball, Ginny and Hermione were done. Ginny's head popped out from behind the door and her body followed. She wasn't beheaded, if you were thinking. Harry was absolutely stunned. She was wearing a short, black sequined dress that came right above the knees with a ribbon tied at the back. The dress showed off her figure, her brilliant red hair and contrasting pale, smooth skin. Her hair was done in a simple but elegant bun and her heels were four inch strappy heels that sparkled beneath the light. her makeup was fiery, just like her. She looked like a goddess. His goddess.

Then, Hermione stepped out, shyly looking at the floor. Harry couldn't recognise her. That beauty was his longtime best friend. Ron was so going to regret dumping her. She was dressed in a light beige floor-length dress with an embellished neckline and a low back she bought after trying on many dresses that left her unsatisfied. It clung onto her just enough to emphasize her curves. She was wearing three and half inch pale gold heels studded with rhinestones that were rather unique in design. She carried a simple soft gold clutch that obviously had an Undetectable Extension Charm, her being Hermione. Her makeup had soft touches and her face was lightly sprinkled with gold powder.

After awkward moments of Harry gaping, Ginny sniggered and whacked Harry before he shut his mouth and stammered, "Shall we?" Hermione blushed and took Harry's arm while Ginny took his other. They walked out and Apparated to the Ministry with a loud pop.

* * *

The ball was an absolute bore, except for when Ron saw Hermione and ogled at her while Lavender Brown clung onto his arm with her best bitchy face on and tried to pull Ron away. He went with her, but constantly stole glances at Hermione. After dancing with Harry and Neville and Ginny, Hermione approached the bar to grab some drinks. She spotted a familiar blond hair git and made her way towards him.

Sitting beside him in one of the uncomfortable high bar stools, she asked the bartender for one shot of Firewhiskey. Draco Malfoy glanced at her. His eyes widened in recognition and he spewed out his drink.

"Granger...?" He started. Hermione looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Can't recognise me eh Malfoy?" Draco Malfoy just stared. After a while, he turned to face the bar and said, "You clean up nicely." Hermione smiled in triumph. Draco Malfoy just complimented her! Ha! In your face, Ronald Weasley.

"Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself." Don't look too bad? That was the understatement of the year. Scratch that. Understatement of the _century_. He looked drop dead gorgeous, wearing the tailor made suit that brought out his (really, _really_ sexy and well defined) body. He looked absolutely delectable. Hermione subconsciously licked her lips and Draco noticed. He smirked cockily to cover up his increasing discomfort at the sudden tightness of his pants.

Gods, she was so sexy. Weasel was such and idiot for dumping her. Too bad, his loss.

After four more shots each, both Draco and Hermione were loosening up and laughing at each other's jokes and bad experiences in relationships. Hermione was recalling on incident when Ron tried to get into her pants but failed epically. Draco wasn't paying attention, however. His eyes were focused on Hermione's plump, pink (oh-so-kissable) lips.

He ordered two flutes of champagne for himself and Hermione. Both of them downed it at the same time. Hermione was feeling rather woozy then, as she was a lightweight. Draco kept staring at her in an almost predatory manner that made her feel a little uncomfortable but desirable. Ron never made her feel that way before. The bubbles in the champagne was pushing all of his courage (which wasn't a lot, considering the fact that he was put in Slytherin, not Gryffindor). In a fit of madness, Draco leaned forward and captured Hermione's lips with his own.

Their lips were the only thing that existed in the world when they kissed. Everything around them disappeared. If Hermione was sober, she would have slapped him. However, the champagne tipped her over towards the drunk side, so she did what any female would do if a (super duper hot) guy was kissing them-kiss back.

The kiss was full of pent up passion. Hermione and Draco **had** wanted each other to some extent after all. Kissing then turned into something much more intense and soon, people were staring. Draco noticed and coaxed Hermione out of the room, and they Apparated to who knows where, all the while fumbling with each other's clothes.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione woke up with a pounding headache in an unfamiliar room. She moaned and stretched, realising that she was sore in some unmentionable places. Groaning, she rubbed her eyes and froze when she saw a body next to her. Memories of what happened the previous night came rushing towards her and she screamed. A loud, shrill girly scream that woke the naked guy next to her.

When Draco woke up to a loud scream, he saw a naked Hermione Granger. Gods, she had beautiful legs. And beautiful you-know-where. Basically, she was beautiful. Then it hit him. A naked Hermione Granger? Woah. And he saw he was naked as well. It didn't take long to piece two and two together. So he screamed. A loud, shrill girly scream that rivaled the one Hermione was giving.

When the screaming stopped (thank goodness, thought the neighbours), Draco was the first one who broke the silence. "Last night wasn't that bad. In fact, it was fecking hot. Wanna go for a second round?" Hermione responded with a punch.

* * *

Six years later, Hermione was happily married and had a two year old boy. Who looked exactly like his father. The git. Thank goodness their son inherited her good heart. She would often reminisce about the day she and Draco Malfoy (now her husband) slept together for the first time. Her first time. She didn't regret it. No she didn't.

In fact, she worshipped champagne.


End file.
